


Squirm, M'Lady

by InkEros (thacmis)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Charles Getting Uncomfortable, Charles blushes and splutters a lot, Crossdressing, Erik is a Sweetheart of an Asshole, Erik is a Troll, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Poor Charles, Romance, Sexual Humor, Telepathic Sex, because of a certain dorkface metal bender, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thacmis/pseuds/InkEros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fic where Erik attempts to troll the come out of lovely Charles, quite literally. </p><p>Erik is pleased. Charles is not.</p><p>Some hilarity, minor jealousy, and major fluff ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> This small fic's a mini fantasy my head played out that had to be written down. 
> 
> I'm the biggest sucker for an uncomfortable-lovely-blushing-slightly-jealous Charles and a hard-faced stoic-but-sweet Erik that loves to trollolol

"Erik? Erik, I don't… _Erik_ ," Charles sputtered, flushing.

Erik grinned at him in response, all teeth and something else that set Charles' heart racing -- not in sexual anticipation, which was the usual, but in fear for his life. The man's eyes were dark with sketchy intent. "Oh, I think you do," he said, smirking. His voice was unforgiving.

Charles stared unblinking at the fabric in his hands, a navy-blue, ruffled velvet stretchy thing that looked more than slightly uncomfortable and promised of humiliation and catastrophe. He gripped the fabric and swallowed.

"I think this is going a little too far," he said weakly.

"Far?" barked Erik. Charles flinched and flushed even deeper. "I think I'll decide that."

"I said I was sorry. I've apologized. I'm truly, truly sorry," Charles rushed. "It wasn't… I promise never to do it again. And you know I wouldn't tell anyone, and I don't think of you any differently than I did before. So please, Erik," he implored desperately.

A week ago, they had gone to a bar together to celebrate locating all the mutants on the first ten pages of coordinates that Cerebro had churned out. They allowed themselves to get slightly drunk. Before entering the bar Charles promised himself a little restraint and thought a couple of shots of Scotch really shouldn't affect him. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, with inebriation came loss of self control and in the end he had a little more than a couple of shots.

When Charles was drunk, his grip on his telepathy was flimsy at best. So when the two of them sauntered back to their hotel room, Charles' growing attraction to his best friend over the past few weeks began to surface quite forcefully and he couldn't help picking up similar signals from Erik's drunken unshielded mind. They kissed, made love, and it was all in all a _ravishing_ night.

Except.

When Charles had told Erik that first night at the CIA compound that he knew everything about the metal bender, he'd been lying. Charles had only picked up vague impressions of Erik's past when they were in the water. He only saw the general, murky outline of figures and emotions before Erik's mental shields went up. But oh, he'd tasted Erik's mind, and he'd never tasted any mind like that. So clean, yet complex and… _beautiful_ , veined fiercely by notes of tragedy and sorrow and immense loss but also pulsating with solidity and confidence and sheer _brilliance_.

Charles simply _needed_ to feel it again, and to explore it, but he kept his moral promise to stay out of people's minds unless permitted to do so otherwise.

Well, until alcohol and a night with a similarly drunk, unshielded Erik hit his system. Erik's passion for him was projected so strongly that Charles lost all control in the face of such attraction and dove right in.

Wandering through his lover's memory lanes as they undulated together in the soft warm sheets, he accidentally uncovered Erik's secrets, Erik's horrifyingly traumatic past, and other memories that Erik had preferred stayed buried.

When they woke up, Erik was absolutely livid. Charles was nearly reduced to tears at the words Erik shouted at him, at the terrible guilt compounded by the hangover that permeated his body. Charles thought Erik hated him, thought that they were over before they had even properly begun, and he'd been absolutely devastated.

And so this thing he held, this now, was his punishment.

"No," Erik said coldly, and Charles' heart sank. "You're a teacher, you should know this. If you don't go through with a punishment, then the lesson isn't taught." With a mirthless smile, Erik turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Charles staring dumbly at the dress he was supposed to wear to the Prime Minister's dance party.

***

Raven flounced into the room, holding in her arms several bags and a box of what looked like pumps with impossibly thin heels. She had a giddy, mischievous smile that Charles decidedly did not like.

"Hello, brother dearest! The world's best disguise artist, at your service. Literally."

Charles groaned into his hands. "Raven, please. This is humiliating enough for me."

"This is why you need to stay out of people's heads." She rummaged through her bags and began pulling out bottles and mini containers and tubes and other things he had no idea what the names were. "I don't know what you did to Erik, but you probably deserve it, and I'm actually kind of excited about this."

"Excited? How can you possibly be excited? Your brother is going to attend a party full of important people… _in drag!_ "

"No, no. You're going to be the most beautiful lady in the room. Now take that shirt off and sit in the chair. Face me. Tilt your head up, up a bit -- that's it."

He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to forget everything and calm down, just for the couple hours he had while Raven did his makeup. But that proved to be nearly impossible, what with every touch of a cool, slick brush against his skin and lips a reminder of his impending doom. When Raven was finished with his facial makeup, she helped him into his dress, tights, shoes, some kind of corset, jewelry, all with bits of metal sewn in -- _Christ_ , Erik went all out on this -- and finally, into an expensive looking wig of the same colour as his natural hair, swept up in pearls and dainty clips on a swirling bun trailing artfully curled locks down the sides of his face to cover his sideburns.

"My god," he said. His feet throbbed in their ridiculously shaped and unreasonably constricting pumps. He felt stiff and abused. "How do you ladies manage to -- Raven? What's the matter?"

Raven's mischievous smile, which she had worn throughout the miserable session, had fallen from her face into something more like shock.

"Raven, is -- is something wrong?" Charles asked again, slightly alarmed.

"N-no!" Raven breathed, her eyes large and yellow. "Charles, you look… you look… you take a look  at yourself. There. Come _on_." She pushed him towards the body length mirror hung in the bathroom.

His pumps clacked painfully against the hard floor. "Raven, slow down! You know I can't walk properly in thes --"

Charles stopped.

 _Oh_.

He didn't look so… bad. At all, actually.

His large blue eyes stood out under thick lines of kohl and thicker lashes, lengthened and fuller than ever before with whatever cosmetic magic Raven had pulled. His pale skin was lightly dusted to give the appearance of a faint, natural blush, and his already red lips were positively outstanding now. The wig framed his face rather nicely, feminizing it just so.

It was only his masculine figure that may be problematic, but he could probably tweak the perception of the people around him to see something more womanly. Charles had initially thought he would have to alter his whole appearance mentally, which would be quite a bit of work in a ballroom containing five hundred and plus guests, not including the servants and workers, but now it seemed that he didn't need to at all.

"Oh," said Charles, almost as shocked as Raven looked.

"I. Am. A. _Genius!_ " She suddenly squealed. She looked at him appraisingly, as though he were a sculpture and she were the artist. Her exuberant pride would have made him smile were he not the debatably unfortunate subject -- _victim_ \-- of it. "And _holy shit,_ your _ass_." She made a noise of appreciation that made Charles blush. "Erik really knows how to choose your dresses."

" _My_  --?!"

"You are _so_ going to get it tonight. Make sure you thank me in the morning, 'kay?"

"Get what tonig -- _oh_. Raven!" He choked as she projected her scandalous thoughts at him.

She looked over his appearance once more while mumbling approval. "Erik's going to love this. You're so lucky to have me as your sister. All right, I'm calling Erik up now."

"Eh -- ah -- no, _wait_ \--" Charles clacked desperately after her as she strode quickly towards the door, grabbing her bags along the way. Unfortunately for Charles and his thrice-cursed heels, there was no way he could have caught up to her and she easily exited the room with a loaded wink and a "good luck, _m'lady_ ".

He leaned against the wall, willing himself not to cry.

Willing himself to _breathe_ , for goodness' sake, and to calm his hammering heart. He didn't quite understand why he was so embarrassed about Erik seeing him like this, since the man had already seen him in the nude, but he refused to lose what little dignity he had left and stood up straight, forcing a determined expression onto his face as he sensed Erik nearing. He was going to take this punishment head on.

The door opened. Erik walked in, absolutely dashing in his navy-blue three-piece suit that matched Charles' dress -- this made Charles' heart flutter a little with a certain fluffy happiness; _this was_ _a_   _date_ \-- and his hair was slicked back, his face clean and shaved. A handsome smirk began to form on his face, but it froze upon seeing his evening date.

Charles held his breath.

A few moments of paralyzing silence followed, during which Charles seriously considered ripping off the dress and shoes and jumping out of the window, before Erik unfroze and straightened up while completing his smirk. He arched an eyebrow and held out the crook of his elbow.

"Shall we, _m'lady_?" he rumbled, with mock politeness.

The decidedly nonchalant reaction Erik just gave irritated Charles, if only because he thought he looked pretty damn good in the dress and he secretly wanted Erik to tell him so. However, the man's mind was frustratingly walled off from him and that reaction would have to do. At least Erik didn't laugh at him. The telepath truly didn't believe he'd live if Erik had laughed at him.

Charles blushed and glared, but he still held his head high as he took his lover's proffered arm.

 


	2. Come On

"Are you happy now?" Charles muttered angrily under his breath.

Erik chuckled. "Happy? No, not yet,  _darling_. This is only half of what I've planned for you."

Charles turned to look at him, rigid with apprehension. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

Charles fumed silently as Erik led them to some other guests to talk to. Erik seemed adamant on showing him off to the public as he was, and the poor telepath spent the entirety of three hours blushing nonstop. The rouge powder Raven had dusted on his cheeks was totally unnecessary at this point.

Even though he had been tweaking his image in other people's eyes to look like a natural woman, it still felt  _odd_  to be walking around in public in a getup he wasn't used to being in. The shoes were no help at all, and the dull throbbing of his feet had turned into something like dull pain now.

Charles knew he deserved this, but he still couldn't help feeling an intense heat of jealousy and resentment when Erik sometimes left him by himself to talk to other  _female_  guests, ones that tended to be gorgeous, tall and slender, unlike the short academic-ness of Charles' figure. And to rub salt on the wound, Charles couldn't even flirt with those guests as he was. But Erik's behavior wasn't so unusual that Charles could call him out on it; before, when Charles and Erik had attended parties together, they frequently separated to converse with different acquaintances. But tonight --  _tonight_ \-- he was Erik's  _date_  and felt that he should at least be treated as such, punishment or not. Terribly rude.

Now, as Erik introduced them to two men and a woman, Charles had a sudden idea. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier? He read the men's minds, saw that they were straight, and found their ideal image of a woman. He then proceeded to shape himself accordingly to their eyes.

"…and this is my lady friend, Charlotte Xavier," Erik finished saying.

Charles flashed them a brilliant smile and fluttered his eyelids. Erik frowned. "A pleasure to meet you," he warbled. He also altered their perception of his voice to something that fitted their tastes.

The two men stared at him. One, a thin, dark-haired man, was blushing deep red, and the other, a burly blonde with not unpleasant looks, was staring at him with open interest. Charles preened at the attention and the mild note of discomfort that suddenly pulsed at the surface of Erik's mind.

The blonde one took Charles' hand and dipped down to place a kiss upon his knuckles. "The pleasure's all mine," the man said, beaming, his eyes never leaving Charles'.

Charles giggled.

"Excuse us," Erik suddenly said rather roughly and pulled Charles away from the company. The two men continued to stare at him as they left.

Glancing at the metal bender, Charles saw Erik's first unsettled expression of the night. Silently, he cheered at this small victory.

If Erik was going to be so merciless about this, then -- well. See if Charles didn't make him regret it just a little.

Or so he thought.

After five more introductions that left all their new male acquaintances blushing and ogling and sometimes even half hard, Erik finally whipped around at Charles, his face contorted with irritation and what Charles hoped was jealousy.

"All right. That's it. What are you doing?" Erik asked through gritted teeth.

"Do what?" Charles replied sweetly, all angelic innocence.

Erik glared very hard at him.

"Hmph." Charles turned away with a huff and flicked one of his fake locks over his shoulder for good measure. "What do you care what I do? The other men in this room have graced me with much better attention than you have tonight." He tried not to sound too bitter.

Erik blinked, and then an ominous look of sudden realization seeped across his face.

"Oooh, I see what this is about," Erik said, smiling wickedly.

"Yes?" Charles did not like that expression at all.

"All you had to do was ask," Erik said with a sinister chuckle, and pulled him close for a dance before Charles could protest. "Not that I mind. Lucky for you, your punishment may be finished a bit quicker than I'd originally planned."

As if on cue, music began to play in the grand hall. People began pairing up all about them; a serene waltz. Erik guided Charles into swaying steps, a surprisingly gentle hand on the telepath's hip, while Charles gripped his partner's broad shoulder, unused to being the one led.

"Ask?"

"Yes. Ask." Erik looked Charles in the eyes.

Being in contact with a person's skin meant that Charles' mind was also touching the person's mind; it was unavoidable. Thus, when Erik looked at him, their hands touching, Charles felt with perfect clarity from Erik's mind the slight opening in the mental barriers and the nudging invitation to enter. Eyes widening in confusion, Charles cocked his head.

_What are you doing? Didn't you not want me inside your head?_

_Just come._

_... A-all right._

Cautiously, Charles slipped in, anticipation thrumming in his chest at being able to taste Erik's wondrous mind again, but also feeling awfully nervous about what was going to happen. After all, this whole situation was caused by Charles getting inside Erik's head. The telepath felt around in what little mental space Erik allowed him in, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. There was only the calm, collected, and magnificent world that was the metal bender's mind.

Then he was flooded,  _flooded,_ by images and sensations and emotions and overwhelming, suffocating  _desire_ , of hot breaths down his neck, a tongue licking a trail up his skin and soft kisses from chapped lips ghosting all over his body and lingering on the more sensitive flesh; of a pair of large, rough hands dragging across his chest and up his shoulders to cup his jaw, teeth on neck, hard and sweet unforgiving; of scorching  _want_  and  _need_  so thick in intensity it nearly choked him, drowning helplessly in the dark, swirling indigo eyes of Erik.

Charles gasped as his knees nearly gave way under the weight of such a projection. He breathed heavily and panted, suddenly feeling that the room's temperature was intolerably high and that his dress seemed a bit too tight.

"Erik," he choked out, resting his forehead against the taller man's chest.

"Hmm?"

"Please, sto -- oh, god." He was getting hard and the bloody tight  _stretchy_  dress was beginning to show it.

"Charles?"

He didn't dare look up, but he did step back a bit, feeling his face go crimson. "Er, well."

Erik's mind emanated mild curiosity at Charles' reaction, before it suddenly shot out a spike of pleased mirth and understanding. Charles looked up, and saw Erik's face split into a large, large grin that reeked of…  _triumph_.

Charles balked.

_You did this on purpose?!_

In response, Erik projected another series of images and sensations turgid with lust, these ones loaded with insane  _creativity_. Charles grew harder and his dress began to tent noticeably.

" _Erik_ ," Charles hissed frantically.  _This is your punishment?! Making me hard in public?!_ He fought to bite back a moan as Erik's mind continuing blasting lust into Charles.

_Ohh, not just to make you hard. That's boring._

_W-what do you mean?_

_I'm going to make you_ come.

_!@$%*$!#?!_

_Language, liebling_.  _There's more._

Suddenly, there was a warm, wet touch at the bottom of Charles' balls, stroking the tender skin and then tracing an obscene pathway upwards, and then pressed, pulsing and deep, around the edges of his hole. Charles eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he looked down and saw absolutely nothing beneath his dress. Erik's arms and hands were still outside, visible, on his hip and hand.

A moment later, while the imaginary tongue continued to playing with Charles' hole, an imaginary hand now began stroking his hardness with  _expertise_.

_Erik--!_

Erik only laughed, but Charles barely heard it over his building orgasm, which he resisted with every ounce of energy he had. If he really came, not only would the entire room experience it as well since he was currently connected to them all for the illusion on his appearance, but he'd lose all the telepathic tweaks he'd made on the guests' minds, and  _everyone_  would know what happened. No, Charles absolutely could not let that happen.

Unfortunately, more imaginary hands and tongues began to play with every single pleasure spot he knew existed on his body, and, oh god, but he loved it,  _hnnngg,_ it felt  _so good_ ,and it was getting to be really, really  _hard_  to keep his head clear, pun fully intended. A soft whine escaped his throat.

 _Erik,_ he cried mentally.  _Please -- please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…_

He tried to force Erik's mind away from his, but it wouldn't let go. Charles was too weak to fight. In an effort to hide his burgeoning bulge, Charles pressed close to Erik so that they were dancing -- well, Charles was really sagging -- nearly chest to chest, hip to hip, his desire poking into Erik's thigh, Erik's own desire pok… wait.

To Charles' absolute shock, Erik wasn't hard at all.

To project so vividly such pornographic lust but remain so unturned definitely meant that Erik, somehow, did not find the situation or Charles appealing. Embarrassed and disappointed beyond belief, the telepath bit his lower lip and pushed hard at Erik's mental grips, and this time, Erik let him go. Charles' knees wobbled and his feet were screaming in pain, blistering quite badly, not helped at all by his current mental state. Charles couldn't help the soft cry he gave as his pain and pleasure warred for dominance. What a spectacular success this punishment probably is to Erik, he thought miserably.

A flash of guilt passed the German's face, before it settled back to nonchalance, although there was a hint of pity now. Then Erik sighed. "Have you learned your lesson?" he asked quietly.

Charles nodded.

"All right then. Step out of your shoes."

"I'm sorry?"

"Step out of your shoes. Those feet are in no condition to walk."

Charles looked down and grimaced. They were red and his right foot looked as though it were swelling and bleeding around the pinky toe. Gingerly, he took them off, bending carefully so that the obscene tent on his crotch area wouldn't show. He didn't want to exert any more telepathic energy to alter himself at the moment.

As soon as both his feet were on blessedly flat, cool ground, Erik hooked an arm around his shoulders and under his knees and swept him up into a bridal carry. At any other time, especially if they were alone together, Charles would have swooned from this seemingly romantic gesture, but in a room full of people --  _important, public_  people -- Charles was absolutely mortified.

"What are you doing?" Charles said in panic.

A few people glanced their way with slightly disapproving frowns. Erik said, "If you're so worried about our reputation, use your mind to make them ignore us. You  _know_  me well enough that I couldn't care less what anyone thinks."

Charles hesitated, awfully tired and feeling guilty once again, but one look down at his painful and visible erection was enough for him to do as Erik suggested. People turned away immediately, as though they were invisible.

"Oh, wait. I forgot our coats," Erik said, halfway to the entrance. "I'm going to go get them. Can you wait here?" He set Charles down on a chair by the wall. The telepath nodded, gripping his pumps over his still painful hardness. Erik hurried away.

As soon as Erik left, men whose minds he had previously tampered with -- which were many, since Erik had made a  _lot_  of introductions tonight -- began approaching him for a dance. Charles realized he was still maintaining the illusion of his beautified appearance in their eyes. He cursed silently. He couldn't lift it now. Where was Erik? What was taking him so long? Several men began migrating towards his side of the hall, and Charles didn't think he had the energy or concentration to mentally command them to leave him alone.

"My lady, would you be so gracious as to dance with m --"

"Lady Xavier, would --"

"Excuse me miss, I --"

Attention from so many men suddenly became a lot more frightening and a lot less fun when Erik wasn't around. Charles stood up in a rush and ducked away from their approaching arms _. Where was Erik?!_ "I'm terribly sorry, sirs, I just realized I have, uh, have --" He didn't bother finishing his sentence as he practically ran away through a side door.

When he felt sufficiently far enough away from the heated minds, Charles slowed to a walk, his feet pretty much a bloody mess by now, his erection still painfully, painfully potent.  _I've learned my lesson_! Charles desperately wanted to cry to Erik.  _I'm sorry! Please, take me away from this godforsaken place, I am so_ done--

As Charles rounded a corner, looking for a bathroom in which he could ease himself, he suddenly felt the familiar shielded mind of Erik. What was he doing so far away from the ballroom? Charles followed his telepathy and felt himself nearing Erik's presence. Judging from the distance his telepathy relayed, Erik would be about ten meters away in the garden, with... with someone else, it seemed. Someone else whose mind was as well guarded as Erik's.

What on Earth...?

"Erik," he called, as he stepped out into the garden. "Erik, what are you--"

Erik was about to kiss a woman, a beautiful blonde woman Charles recognized as one of the tall, elegant ladies Erik had been chatting to earlier in the night. He had one hand on her slim, pearly waist, the other cupped on her cheek, just as he had done for Charles so many, many times.

Charles felt his breath knocked out of him.

The woman turned, and when her icy stare met his, she narrowed her eyes and cursed softly. She turned back to Erik and patted his face. "Next time, sugar." In a white flash, she leapt away and was gone.

Erik blinked and shook his head, looking rather lost. He rubbed his head as though to clear it, and sighed, turning towards the entrance into the building, where Charles was still standing, frozen in shock.

"Charles...?" said Erik.

At the sound of his name, Charles started, but he still could not do anything but stare. His lungs burned with emotions he could not give sound to.

"Charles, what are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to wait --" Erik began to move towards him, but Charles took a step backwards. Erik stopped, looking slightly confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Charles going to run? What's going with Erik? What'll they do? WE DON'T KNOW
> 
> Forgive the cliffie, but let me know what you think


	3. I love it when you squirm

"Charles, what's--"

Then, as the garden lamps flickered on at the preset evening hour, Erik saw his lover's paled face, frozen and taut with abject shock, two enormous blue eyes that were a little too bright, staring at him in utter disbelief.

Erik leapt towards him, worry coursing through his chest.  "Charles? Charles, what's wrong? What's the matter?" He reached out to cup his lover's cheek.

The man suddenly flinched and stepped backwards, gasping as though his senses had just returned. Charles's face hardened into a furious glare and irreparable _hurt_ saturated his eyes, aimed very clearly towards the taller man.

Erik became positively alarmed. He could even feel Charles' emotional turmoil roiling through his thick mental barrier.

"What's _wrong_?" rasped Charles, trembling. "How... How can you _ask_ such a thing, after you've...that's too far for a punishment, even if -- if that _was_ part of the pu--" He swallowed audibly and shook his head, unable to speak any longer. With another cutting glare at Erik, he whipped around to leave.

Completely baffled by the situation and slightly angry at being accused of what seemed like some kind of unforgivable atrocity, Erik stepped forward to grab Charles' arm before the man could move far. He squirmed, face averted, but to no avail against the Erik's grip and the metal sewn into his jewelry and corset.

"Charles, for heaven's sake, stop. I meant it when I said I have no clue what you're talking about. Charles -- listen to me -- you can't expect me to let you leave like this!"

Charles stopped squirming.

Erik looked down, and arched an eyebrow. "Especially not when you're still..." Erik paused. The tent in Charles' dress hadn't receded and Erik was momentarily overcome by a sharp wave of lust, which he quickly suppressed.

 _And whose fault is this?_ came an angry whisper. Charles shifted to cover it with his hands.

If one ignored what was behind those hands, Erik thought, in his current stance, Charles looked deliciously demure.

"And your feet, Charles, Christ." Erik sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the red, blistering, swollen skin. "There is absolutely no chance of me letting you walk around like that."

Charles still had his face down, refusing to look at Erik. He shook his head again.

"Can you please talk to me?" Erik implored.

Something in his voice made Charles snap his head up to look at him. The telepath, still radiating hurt and more shock than he could bear, looked questioningly at him. For a few moments, they simply stared at each other. For Erik's part, Charles' beauty continued to mesmerize him. He'd spent the evening in the dance hall subtly staring at and memorizing Charles' appearance, which looked so good he wondered why he hadn't thought of making up an excuse to put him in a dress earlier. Big blue eyes emphasized by kohl, blazing red lips so sweet and delicious, pale skin kissed by golden freckles, wrapped so tightly around by the smooth velvet --

"You really don't remember?" came Charles' soft voice.

"Remember...?'

Wide blue eyes darted about Erik's face, searching, then they darted away again. He sighed. "You were going to kiss Ms. Frost, Erik," he said quietly.

Erik was speechless. "I'm sorry?"

Charles looked at him. "Let me show you?"

"...Please do."

Charles pressed his fingers to temple as Erik lowered part of his mental shields.

***

The wave of utter confusion and alarm that rose from Erik's mind, after Charles had finished filling him in, indicated that the metal bender really had no memory whatsoever of that moment. In fact, when Charles dug a little deeper, the place where there should have been the memory was blurred out, like hastily wiped chalk on a blackboard. The marks were faint, but Charles was able to make out the vague impression of what they had been.

 _I think she was trying to get something out of you_.

 _Did she?_ Erik replied, alarm mounting.

_No, no, nothing seems to be taken. I caught her before she could._

Charles paused. The knowledge that Erik was not playing with his feelings filled him with a burst of relief, and the catharsis was so great that he wondered just how much he was underestimating his love for this man.

Some of the relief must have leaked through, because Erik's face softened and he placed gentle hand on Charles' cheek. "I'm sorry," Erik said.

Charles sighed and leaned into the touch. "I'm sorry as well, for my outburst."

"I think I would have done the same."

Erik pulled him into a hug and Charles rested his head on Erik shoulder, his makeup be damned. The subtle note of cologne tracing the deep calming musk of Erik's natural scent wrapped him up in a blanket of comfort.

"And I think we need to take care of that," murmured Erik through his hair -- wig.

"Care of what?" Charles said sleepily.

In response, Erik shifted his leg.

A trill of sharp pleasure coursed up from his crotch through his chest and Charles gasped. He'd forgotten. He'd _forgotten_! Good lord. He turned what was undoubtedly an extremely unbecoming shade of red. Erik snorted at his reaction, and grinned, shifting his leg some more.

It was a little too much. He felt himself getting even harder. "E-Erik," he spluttered, blushing furiously. The dress was too thin and he could feel ev -- every -- oh _god_ \-- "Erik, pleas-- hn _nnnk_ ," he whimpered and sagged involuntarily into strong arms that caught his weight.

"Let's go back to the car," Erik whispered into his ear, his hot breath on Charles' skin. Charles could only nod, not trusting himself to speak without moaning. In one swift move, the taller man swept him off his feet again -- figuratively and literally -- like a prince would his princess, and though Charles would normally protest being treated like a damsel in distress, he really couldn't complain at the moment. It was definitely because he could use the cover that this position provided his erection, _not_ because he actually kind of enjoyed being held so lovingly by Erik. Nope, not at all.

As they moved through the building and down the halls, Erik peppered him with kisses and Charles averted the eyes of passers-by as he returned the affections.

They barely made it to the car, and by the time he'd shut the door, Erik had hiked up the hem of his dress to his hips, dragging a palm up and down Charles' penis and pretty much throwing himself over the smaller man. "You look -- so -- good," Erik gasped as Charles blushed and bucked, panting. "Yes, like that... Fuck, so good, so beautiful..." As Erik sucked and kissed his skin, radiating lust and _want_ and pleasure and even a hint of desperation, leaving sore but delightful pink patches of love all over his body, Charles moaned like a thirsty schoolboy. He began to slide his hands down Erik's trousers, but to his dismay Erik wasn't hard, not even remotely. He scrambled to take hold of the prick, but the metal bender pulled away abruptly and cursed, leaving Charles suddenly bereft of his lover's lips.

Charles whimpered, a little hurt. "What's wrong with your...? Why aren't you...?"

Before doubts about Erik's love could spring up again, Erik undid his pants with fumbling movements. Some kind of firm restraint wear covered his crotch, and when Erik ripped it off, Erik's desire finally popped up, hard and large and looking more than ready to wreak havoc into Charles' pleasure centres. Charles stared.

"I was as hard as you the whole time," Erik said sheepishly.

"What...?"

Erik averted his eyes. "I knew I wouldn't be able to control it when I saw you... as you are," he explained. "I've always wanted to see you in a dress, but I was sure you'd refuse, so I... so I. Well. Made up an excuse for you to. Dress," he finished awkwardly.

Charles was stunned.

Then he was angry.

"An _excuse_?" he spluttered. As an eloquent professor of genetics, he seemed to do a lot of spluttering around Erik. "I _suffered_ several _hours_ of tortuous attention from lewd men --"

"--which you brought on yourself--"

"--and _utter humiliation-_ \- oh _shush_ , you know exactly why I did that, don't make me go into it -- not to mention that _awful_ guilt and what I thought was your hatred -- I truly  believed you hated me Erik, I thought you _hated me_ \-- all for a bloody _prank_?" Charles was nearly in tears.

"Well I _was_ a little angry at your lack of understanding of the concept of _mental privacy,_ Charles, but that wasn't -- no no, Charles," Erik rushed, when Charles sniffed. "I could never hate you. Please don't cr -- I only..."

"What?"

"I only wanted to -- I -- you -- look beautiful," Erik tried, reddening. Unable to verbally  communicate his turmoil, he looked into Charles' eyes and projected his feelings at the telepath instead. The force of Erik's thoughts -- the intensity of his love for Charles, Charles' appearance, Charles' soul, Charles' _everything_ , his belief that his love would look wondrous in a dress and his triumph at being more than right -- left the target of his emotions completely overwhelmed.

" _Oh_ ," said Charles breathlessly.

"I'm sorry."

The telepath swallowed, still recovering from the flood, and not sure if he wanted to. "You really could have just asked, Erik. You know I wouldn't refuse you anything, even -- even this."

"Yes, I know." Erik smiled and reached out to tenderly brush aside a stray lock of hair from the loosening wig. Charles' breath hitched.  Then Erik's smile turned into a sly smirk. "But you have to admit, it was a lot more fun seeing you squirm."

"Wh-- I do not _squirm_ ," Charles said indignantly.

"Yes you do," Erik replied with loving conviction, leaning in for another kiss. "And I love it when you do."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I love jealous!Charles, and I also harbour a bit of a kink for pretty crossdressing men, so that was two birds with one stone


End file.
